Friday, October 14, 2005

Notizie Dal Mio Cuore -16

Ciao! Sono qui! A Firenze!!!!

And, being here exactly 5 days I had my first proposal of marriage on the ponte vecchio last night. I think that’s about right for timing, don’t you think? Was he dark? Was he an Italian lover? Was he wearing lots of leather all perfectly matched and well groomed? No. He was a seemingly-lovely man from California named Buddy. Buddy was looking for a restaurant his friend told him about, thought I was an Italiana and asked for directions. Then when he discovered I was an Americana who was also “in the business” (Buddy wrote for Jay Leno for 6 years and did lots of other things — writing, acting, etc. He seems to know everyone…. plays cards with Michael Douglas etc etc — let’s look him up on IMDB shall we?) he asked me to join him for dinner.

Perche’ no? I don’t say no to anything here…. niente! Unless of course my instinct says to. BUT since I decided this night of Yom Kippur to follow my instincts on my walk and had a thought to cross the Ponte Vecchio (“my” bridge is two over and I hardly ever cross the Ponte Vecchio) I felt it was right to join Buddy and we had a lovely dinner in a very sweet little trattoria.

Buddy turns out to be a “jew-bu” (Jewish / Buddhist) and is 51, never been married, traveling around the world (Vietnam, China, Tibet, London, Prague) and ended up, by mere coincidence in Florence. Then he meets this (please know I am about to use his words) “beautiful, intelligent, lovely woman” who “radiates a very unique presence” is “intoxicating” and “full of grace” he “didn’t expect to come to Florence and find such a light.” So, after dinner he asked me to marry him as we walked over the Ponte Vecchio. I believe he was being quite sincere.

I, of course, declined.

But why. Why did I decline? I mean Buddy had a very interesting idea. Why not just get married and then see what happened? Get to know each other AFTER the wedding. And he even had the perfect location for us to wed……. a private section of the Boboli Gardens which had a view of all of Florence. Bella!

Now, this could sound intriguing…. I mean Buddy almost lost his life in a torrential, violent river he was washed along in during his stay in Vietnam and now he found the love of his life by mere coincidence. And Jewish to boot! He could so easily love me…..

But what exactly is this thing called love? I mean, I would understand, since Buddy obviously is ready for such an engagement in his life that he would look at me and wonder….. could it be? Look at all the “coincidences,” this MUST be meant to be. And then he imposes his desires on me…. okay I’m a “catch” in his words. . . but still it is imposing his needs and thoughts on me to fulfill something in him. Is that love? Is love what each of us give each other in order to feel this need, desire, empty hole thing filled? I am sure it is not. Not real love. Not the kind of love I am looking for anyway. I think, frankly, that is my own obligation. To fill that need, hole, empty thing with the life I live each day. What could possibly be more loving? Which is why, of course, I have moved to Florence. And which is why, of course, I also declined his invitation to go to Venice with him the next day.

And good thing to. Or I wouldn’t have met . . . . Allessandro. I was walking along the arno river with my newly-met friend, Paula (thank you Ilo) in search of a bar a friend of her’s may or may not own anymore when Allessandro asked us if this was …. I can’t remember which river but not the Arno. Turns out Allessandro and his friend Maximo both live in Florence, are FROM Florence. And, of course, know damn well the name of the river. “I was joking you see”. Yes, Allessandro, I did see. I also see that he suggested we start a new religion based on the Divine Comedy which he is currently reading. I told him I couldn’t start a religion unless I was really aware of the material I was going to ask people to believe in. I think he understood that. I’m not sure because although he speaks good English the subtlety of my sarcasm (infused with a bit of flirtation of course) may have been lost in translation. We ended up talking along the ARNO for about an hour. Paula found some conversation with Maximo very interesting (about the state of affairs of goods sold in Italy made in China…. ) and Allessandro and I talked about the fact that he figures he has about 25 more years to live (he’s 45) and intends to live them well. Since he’s not going to start his religion with me, he’s going to continue focusing on the study of Florence history. He is an army man. Trains people in special weapons and lives 7 kilometres outside of Florence. Actually, he’s very cute. He wondered if we should start living right then. I said we were. And thought well. We were in Florence, walking by the ARNO, looking at the moon, the Ponte Vecchio. What more does one need to live? He laughed. So. . . tomorrow night we have an aperitivo and a light supper. He’s picking me up on his scooter.

This is one tiny part of my six days here. My apartment is my sanctuary. I have NEVER slept better in my life (it’s actually a little scary how well I sleep). Matilda is happy and immediately took to our new home. My padrona (landlady) is amazing. I have had many conversations with her (she speaks not one word of English) and am amazed at how much I understand. I just hope she’s not telling me something important (like if you turn on this switch in the apartment the water heater blows up) because I just am not getting the detail yet. There is so much to tell you…. so much in so few days. And when I have internet service hooked up in my apartment I will send pictures of everything! But here is what I have learned so far . . . . .

1. You can not live a whole life time, even when you find yourself in the midst of your dream come true, in one day.

2. Invest in olive oil. GOOD olive oil. It will make all things better.

3. Love is not something to look for with desperation. It finds you. It finds you when you have found yourself. This is, maybe, not something I know but something I am exploring while I am here.

4. As you drink wine with dinner drink a glass of water per glass of vino. You will not get a hangover and you simply should not eat a good meal with out wine.

Ciao i miei ragazzi!

Posted by Bari at 22:33:57 | Permalink | No Comments »

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Notes From the In Between

Seven months, 21 plane trips (I think that trip back to LA for my drivers license tipped me into the ridiculous for the amount of miles flown- see photo of infamous license, REALLY cute (I know that sounds awfully haughty but I look so happy in it! Damnit if I was going to fly 6,000 miles to get my photo taken at the DMV then I was gonna get a good one!!! Thank you Tamara, for driving me at 7:30 am!!!!!). . . . . . and on Sunday I arrive in my new home. Firenze!!!!
L’Shanah Tovah! Happy new year! It is Rosh Hashannah. We are in the “ten days of awe” between now and Yom Kippur. How amazing, not even to my planning, is it that I travel into this new period of time during these days? These days of self-reflection and growth. And what have I to reflect on? Well, of course so very much…..
For one, my expectations, are, I have learned, best left to the side of my actions… my dreams can stand, my goals, but my expectations I am learning are not my friends. They narrow the experience I can have… they create a view that is without space.
That is why I have so few for Florence. I had plans to work for Syracuse University while there, but they may have fallen aside. Or not. I had plans to complete my masters, but that as well is taking its own pace. I think I will go to Florence with what drew me to it initially….. and I think the best way to share that with you, if you will indulge me because I’d like you to know, to show you what I am entering into and why…. is the piece I wrote in Maia’s writing class… the first piece I wrote after my very first time there a year and a half ago. And then you’ll know what Florence is to me and why I am going.
But before that I also want to say that it’s good to have animals share our lives with us. I predicted…. I expected… Matilda to hover in closets during this time-in-between Syracuse and Florence. But as you can see from the photo that was not her plan at all. At Niki’s she climbed the rafters of their home (see photos of cat 30 feet in the air!) In Maryland she roamed my parents apartment in the face of their loveable but hyper chihuaha. She hasn’t gone face to face with my little nephew (see photo cause he’s so damn cute at his 2-year-old bdy party!!!) but I’m sure she’d do just fine.
Yes, I think I will be like Matilda. Live against my expectations and see what gets thrown at me next. Or gently tossed. . . .
Ci vediamo a presto (we will see each other soon)…..I’ll see you in Firenze!!!
“Gentle, gentle” as a memory but not a known, intimate one.

Not a memory that sits in a cell of skin on your arm which is always there crying out to you ‘remember me’ when the scent of a particular rose is enjoyed. Nor the memory of pain — which is hidden deeper in the flesh. More near the heart where the blood is cleaned and recycled. Beating a rhythm of life undetected and, often, unrecognized or acknowledged.

“Gentle, gentle” the memory whispers, and it is familiar even within its own unique, never-heard-before voice. It is quiet and, yet, so truly intimate that you know, you just know it must be yours. Yet you have no recollection of the date of its birth. Of the moment it took root and held fast among the undergrowth of your daily comings and goings.

But here it is. Like luce — like light. Gentle as a reminder of who you are. And, as unexpected, as uninvited — always present. So much so that you barely notice — until it draws attention to itself in its own glory. Until, like the dawn, like the early evening sleep come upon our day, like the bacci of luce on fiore caught at a glance as you ride through known territory — you can not deny it is here. For you. Only for you.

“Gentle, gentle” glistens like a newly polished gem placed in the only setting possibly worthy of it. Like the steps taken through cobblestone streets and alleys offering discoveries at every breath, at every click of your known heels on unknown territory so new to you it is yours entirely. It is a whisper as pure as the smile on the shopkeeper who wraps your gift with so much pride that tears leave your eyes to have witnessed it.

To have witnessed — to have shared. To have tasted and been tasted.


To have seen and been seen. Gentle and gentle more. There is no going back when doors — crafted, textured doors — are opened warmly with a smile and you are enveloped by this sensation — lost in it to be found. And you have been opened — again. And, for the very, very first time.

For the FIRST time life has a voice. It’s own, particular sound which tastes luscious in the mouth — soft and creamy with a lacing of cioccolate and liquor gently mixed and molded and placed at YOUR table on YOUR plate to lift YOUR fork this night to savor — surprisingly, giving over — to the most delisioso tiramisu ever-made-only-made-for-you.

There is no more moment more gentle then this other than the blush which softens your heart as it melts — as the casing starts to gently crumble by the waiter’s blushing sweet face and you remember something else you had forgotten or, truly, never knew. Even though it was there for you. And now it is served to perfection.

“Gentle, gentle” is yet so quiet you don’t hear the words –not these words, not yet. But kindness has arrived and, with no desire to leave, opened its heart to you as a mirror saying “see! see!” This is what is. Quietly, of course, as revered as the hall of Santa Croce and as small as a mouse as delicate as God, she greets you there among the greatness. You find her because you do. She is going nowhere, she is ever present. And you have found her.

It is a kindness to bring her home — in so many forms. To bring her to the place you reside and sit with her among the familiars. A self-kindness which resonates and is new, like she is. And everlasting as is she. “Bella, Bella” is a good word for your heart to sing daily.

“Gentle. Gentle” I recall, I remember gentle and gentle and gentle more.

Posted by Bari at 22:27:36 | Permalink | Comments (1) »